I'm Craving You so Bad
by Arishako
Summary: A story in which Quinn has cravings, and... well, actually that's about it. Faberry.


**Pairings**: Quinn/Rachel (…Quinn/Food)

**Warnings**: Language and light mentions of sex

**Word Count**: 1403

**Spoilers**: Preggo.

**Disclaimer**: Thankfully, I do not own Glee. Trust me. Weird shit would happen.

**Notes**: I posted this on LJ a while ago. Also, it's slightly AU.

**3:21 AM. Berry Household: Rachel's Room. Stomach Status: Just Smaller than a Basketball.**

Quinn snuggled deeper into Rachel's arms unconsciously, the brunette's quiet snores acting as an intimate lullaby for the ex-cheerleader. Their breathing was even—not quite in sync with each other but still sharing a common rhythm.

Somewhere in the very depths of Quinn's subconscious, a dream was forming. Quinn and Rachel, skipping through some sort of meadow thing complete with flowers and streams and baby Disney animals, singing some a duet that wasn't completely identifiable in the spur of the moment but that was probably from _Wicked_, holding hands, in love, generally being cutesy. It was one of those kinds of dreams.

The two girls collapsed in a field of flowers, giggling like children, and then Rachel was speaking to her, whispering of things that really only made sense in dreams, like flying and magic and running away together to Barcelona. It didn't even matter because suddenly Rachel's lips were on Quinn's neck and her hands were on Quinn's body, running up and down and tracing shapes and words until they finally started to move lower… and then it happened.

Quinn smelt it first—just a minor distraction that was so not worth even acknowledging. But then it grew, just escalating and festering until it was so bad (so_ good_) that Quinn had to crane her neck and look up and she could _see_ (and, oh God, she could _taste_) that giant fucking double cheeseburger sitting unclaimed on a platter on the ground not even ten feet away from her.

Quinn's eyes shot open.

She registered the feeling of Rachel moving against her, shifting slightly in her sleep, and she lay still under the covers for a long moment while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Eventually, she slipped out of bed (slipped away from the warmth of her girlfriend) and practically ran out of the bedroom. The entire Berry family were notoriously heavy sleepers, so Quinn was free to sound like a herd of elephants as she thudded down the stairs and into the kitchen, not stopping until she was crouching in front of the open refrigerator.

"Damn," Quinn spoke out loud and then quickly looked over her shoulders—just in case, like, one of Rachel's dads had suddenly materialized in the kitchen or something. Not surprisingly, she was still alone. The blonde looked once again at the contents of the fridge. James and Will Berry (or "Mr. and Mr. Berry," as they liked to address themselves while showing off their rings and generally acting couple-y) had always been real great about buying a variety of foods to accommodate the demanding and unpredictable monster growing inside the belly of the newest addition to their family, but still everything in the fridge looked absolutely disgusting.

Quinn wanted…

Damn.

Quinn needed…

Fuck.

Quinn was _craving…_

**-x-x-x-**

"Hey, Rachel," Quinn whispered, her hand gently poking the other girl's shoulder, "Rachel, wake up." Rachel remained oblivious. "Sweetie," Quinn hesitated, "Rachel, we're late for Glee."

"Urnngh," Rachel groaned, her eyes opening slowly, "wha? S'dark." Rachel never seemed to be her usual verbose self upon being woken up. She groaned again, for good measure, probably because she'd just realized she'd been fooled. "Quinn?"

"Um, hi!" the blonde smiled but didn't wait for a response. "So, uh, sorry to, y'know, wake you, but I kind of need something."

To Quinn's horror, Rachel's eyes fell closed once again. "Maybe in the morning, babe. I'm not in the mood." Quinn squeaked at that, because the thought that she would wake her girlfriend up for… _stuff_ was perfectly embarrassing (and a little intriguing but she was not even going to go there!).

"Um, no," God, she was stuttering, "I mean, do you think maybe—I'm _hungry_." Oh God, did she sound stupid. She bit her lip and unconsciously slid closer to the edge of the bed.

"Oh," Rachel mumbled. Then, "Oh!" she realized. She struggled with her comforter for a moment before sitting up and leaning forward, failing to completely hold back a yawn. "Are you thinking of something particular?" Quinn just nodded (felt the pounding in her cheeks from a blush that Rachel could probably still see even in the darkness), because this had never happened before—at least not at three-o-clock in the morning—and she wasn't sure if she was, well, _allowed_ to just wake up her girlfriend to get her some food at crazy times throughout the night. But Rachel just smiled and kind of felt around the dark blindly until she found Quinn's hand and then gave it a squeeze. "What can I get for you?"

The ex-cheerleader felt really guilty and undeserving for a second, but then her stomach growled (or the baby growled, she didn't know) so she swallowed her pride and said, "McDonalds."

**-x-x-x-**

"What would you like this evening?" the static-y voice sounded perky and way too chipper to be alive at almost four in the morning, and Rachel kind of wanted to reach through the speaker and strangle its owner, but she didn't because her girlfriend was pregnant and craving things and looking kind of adorable with her tummy causing the sleep shirt to bunch up in odd places.

She looked over at her girlfriend, who had yet to specifically tell her what she wanted. Quinn held her baby bump with both hands, as if it were some sort of crystal ball that would reveal the answers to the universe. She leaned closer to Rachel. "Um, I want…a double quarter pounder with cheese and no sauce and extra pickles," she whispered into her girlfriends ear rather than actually ordering herself and then gasped and looked around, as if some of the Cheerios were suddenly going to jump out from behind a bush at the drive-thru of an isolated McDonalds at nearly four in the morning.

Rachel rubbed her eyes (God, she probably shouldn't be driving so early) and repeated the order.

"Okay," the way-too-fucking-energetic employee said. "Would you like fries wi—"

"_Yes!_" Rachel couldn't stop her head from whipping to the right at the intensity in the blonde's voice. "Um…yes, please."

"What size would you like for your fries, miss?"

Silence. Quinn bit her lip.

"Large," Rachel said. Her girlfriend's hand slipped into her own and squeezed it thankfully.

"Would you like anything else tonight?"

"A coffee. Large," the singer said with a wink in Quinn's direction.

**-x-x-x-**

As it turned out, Rachel had only finished half her coffee before the ex-cheerleader had managed to inhale all her food (it didn't really matter, though, because it had tasted kind of like water with some dirt in it anyway).

"Thanks for staying up with me," Quinn said for the seventh time as she threw her wrappers and napkins into the trash. Rachel thought that the other girl sounded way too guilty over this—and she'd said that too, only to be told that she was obviously delirious from sleep deprivation. As it was, she just rolled her eyes.

"Quinn, I love you. I'm not going to just leave you to deal with this pregnancy thing all by yourself."

The blonde just smiled (and ignored the thought of all the people in her life who really had done just that) and walked over to push in Rachel's chair as the singer dumped the remainder of her sludge-coffee into the sink. "Wanna go back to bed now?"

Rachel turned to face her girlfriend. "Actually, I was thinking," she trailed off as a familiar smirk took over her face. She closed the distance between herself and Quinn, pressed herself into the other girl's side (because her stomach was too large now; they were used to kissing at funny angles) and _would_ have kissed her if Quinn hadn't pulled her head away at the last second.

"Rachel! I just ate, like, three million calories of fat. I am so not horny!"

The singer just grinned lasciviously and said, "It'd be good exercise," with a wiggle of her eyebrow and a suggestive bend of her index and middle finger for good measure.

And, whether it was the freaky pregnancy hormones, the genuine desire to burn fat, the goofy look that Rachel had on her face, or just _something_ about the girl herself, Quinn just laughed and pulled her girlfriend towards the stairs. "Fine, Stud, but we are so going to sleep through first period."


End file.
